Disclaimer: All recognizable characters, settings, lines and references to elements within the Harry Potter universe belong to JK Rowling and affiliated publishers. In addition, any aspects borrowed from the film canon are property of Warner Bros. This fanfiction exists purely for non-commercial entertainment, and the author is not benefited from any form of profit. Rated T for language, some violence and implied sexuality.
Chapter one
They stood, hands interlocked, the ruined castle behind them. It was over. Harry felt numb, which, he decided, was preferable to the pain he knew would come. But as he thought this, their names tumbled into his mind, and not just the ones from the battle, but ones that he had been dealing with the grief for a long time: his mother and father, Sirius, Dumbledore, Cedric, Snape, Remus, Tonks, Mad-eye Moody, Fred. He let go of Hermione's hand and fell to the floor, crouched like a tiger, as the pain washed over him, and threatened to engulf him in its fiery waves. His breathing became short and unsteady. It was as if he had all the worst emotions he had ever felt in his life; guilt, sadness, anger and grief, all rolled in a big ball that lodged itself in his stomach stubbornly.
"Harry?" Hermione said, her voice anxious, and she ducked to crouch next to him, Ron's hand on her back. "Harry?" Tears streamed down her cheeks, making clear tracks in the dirt that covered her face. Harry had to remind himself to breathe. He would have to face the terror sometime, and it would be easier to do it steadily. He breathed deeply and stood up again. He looked at Ron, who wore a pained expression, and Harry knew that he was holding in the grief too. There was a deadly pause, in which Hermione tried to stem the flow of tears by wiping her eyes with her sleeve, and Ron and Harry both gulping back the tears themselves. Finally, the silence was broken by Hermione's voice.
"We should go inside, see the others."
Ron took a sharp intake of breath. Harry understood; Ron had just lost a member of his family, and Harry himself felt devastated at the thought that he would never hear Fred's voice again.
Harry took another breath, and nodded. But as he turned round, he saw a blur of ginger running towards him. Before he could register this, the breath was knocked out of him as Ginny jumped on him, wrapping her legs around him and using her hands to hit him repeatedly in the chest.
"Don't-you-EVER-do-that-again-Harry-Potter!" she gasped, between punches. Then she threw her arms around his neck and buried her face in his shoulder, sobbing bitterly. Harry looked sideways at Ron and Hermione, who averted their eyes. Harry hugged Ginny close. When she finally unravelled herself and was on her own two feet again, she kept a firm hold of Harry's hand, as if she thought that he might blow away with the wind if she let go. The four began walking slowly towards Hogwarts, all dreading going back to the horror that lay within. As soon as they entered the Great Hall, Mrs Weasley's voice penetrated Harry's tumbled thoughts.
"Harry. Thank goodness you're all right." She hugged him briefly, but her usual brightness had disintegrated, and the colour was gone from her eyes, replaced with a dull gleam. She squeezed Ginny's arm, placed a hand on Ron's shoulder and nodded at Hermione. "We'll go back to the burrow." she said shortly. Harry glanced at her, surprised. The last time he had seen the burrow it had been up in flames, due to the death eaters Bellatrix Lestrange and Fenrir Greyback. He felt a surge of anger with the memory, but as soon as it had come, it had gone, and the guilt and grief was back. Molly seemed to read his thoughts.
"The burrow's been fully rebuilt now. Exactly as it was before, give or take a few things that we'll never be able to replace." she gulped, and pain flashed over her face. She was thinking about Fred. Harry nodded, then smiled as he caught a glimpse of Neville and Luna, sitting very close together a couple of metres away. He always did think that they'd be great together. Mrs Weasley's steps faltered as they neared the place where the rest of her family was gathered, as if she didn't want to go back there, just yet. Ginny gripped Harry's hand so tightly that her fingernails dug into his palm.
"The protective spells around the castle have been broken." she murmured, and the five of them disapparated, appearing seconds later half a mile from the burrow. They walked there in silence. As Harry entered the house, he realised that Mrs Weasley had been wrong. Though the house looked the same way, (so much so that no one would ever realise there had been a fire at all) the cheerful atmosphere had vanished. Instead, there was a maudlin air about the place, as if the dementors had just performed their deadly kiss on the burrow and sucked out its soul, replacing it with gloom. Mrs Weasley walked into the living room with purpose, so that the others followed, and sat down all squished together on the sofa. Mrs Weasley sat heavily down in front of them on the armchair, and took a deep breath.
"Now, Harry." He knew what was coming. "You mustn't feel guilty for anything. The only death that was because of you was the fall of V-Voldemort." she stuttered. "And now, we can all breathe freely again. We, together, have ended the war that has been going on for 14 years, Harry. Everyone who... who d-died-" she swallowed, "died fighting him. It wasn't because of you, Harry. It was because of Voldemort. And like Neville said, they're still with us, every single one of them. They didn't die because of you. But we need to live for them now." she couldn't carry on. They were all choked, and no one spoke. Then the heard the front door open, and Arthur, Percy, Bill, Fleur and Charlie came in. Harry saw George walk round to the back garden. Mrs Weasley looked up at her husband, who leaned on her chair. Arthur sighed, as if he was carrying a great weight.
"Fred's in the garden." he muttered, and everyone looked down. Mrs Weasley nodded, pressing her lips together.
"We should...we should do it now, as we are. It seems...right." she said, a tear trickling down her cheek. So they all went into the garden, and everyone helped to dig a hole. George took over in silence when everyone had taken a turn. It had been Harry's suggestion; like with Dobby, he had thought that it would be better, more personal, to do it without magic. However, when Arthur, Percy, Charlie and Ron had lowered Fred down (George was knelt next to the hole, staring into it blankly) they all held their wands into the air, and after a few minutes of silence, shot up colourful sparks that lit up the sky. They stayed there for hours, and while George steadily filled the grave, they stood and rested against one another. Harry held Ginny tightly. He had never seen Ron like this: he wept bitterly, supported by Hermione. Mr and Mrs Weasley were sat on the ground in a huddle; Bill and Fleur were crouched next to the grave; Percy and Charlie were stood close together, their backs hunched. Harry could hear Percy-he sounded like a broken man, and nothing like the stuck up boy he once was. Harry let the grief take over, that night in the garden, and cried with the others. It was late morning when they finally went in. No one really knew what to do with themselves, so they all crashed in the living room: Mrs Weasley on the sofa, George curled up on the armchair and everyone else crammed together on the floor. Harry fell asleep with his hand still clutched in Ginny's.